


Lachrymatory

by lcdsra



Series: LCDSRA's A-Z Soulmate Prompts [12]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26606668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcdsra/pseuds/lcdsra
Summary: /ˈlakrəməˌtôrē/adjective1. relating to, tending to cause, or containing tears.Or: Setsuko doesn’t cry. Why would she?
Relationships: None
Series: LCDSRA's A-Z Soulmate Prompts [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935553
Kudos: 1





	Lachrymatory

**Author's Note:**

> AU: You are born with a timer on your wrist that counts down until your soulmate dies.
> 
> Character(s): Setsuko, Setsuko’s family, Celeste  
> Relationship(s): None  
> Warning(s): Minor character death

According to her parents, Setsuko wasn’t a crier, even as a young child. Sometimes she whimpered, but for the most part, she was silent. When she was born, she gasped and squirmed, but she did not scream or cry. As she got older, her unusual purple eyes would simple stare back at the adults who cooed at her.

She wondered, sometimes, why they’d want another kid. Her baby brother was a yeller, and as a toddler she contemplated shoving a pillow over his slobbering face to get him to shut up. She was caught attempting to do so once.

Even as a child, she knew she wouldn’t be a crier. Oddly so, maybe, but her parents never complained. Her father loved her for it, and her mother never bothered with her because of it.

She was quiet, like a ghost. Her mother had once asked, in passing, if she was a reborn _yokai_ , with her oddly pale hair and defiant purple eyes.

She did not cry when she heard the fear, the distaste, in her mother’s voice.

So, no. Setsuko would not call herself a crier.

: : :

Once, when Setsuko was 10, her house collapsed when she was in it. It happened in an instant. One moment she was reading in her room, and the next, the walls and ceiling collapsed around and on top of her.

Her arm was stuck under a slab of roof and her torso was solidly stuck under a wall. She did not cry out, despite the pain that radiated throughout her body, despite the fact that she was trapped for two days before a rescue team was able to recover her.

Maybe it was a lack of water that prevented tears, but even after, when she was stuck with needles and IV drips, she was silent.

Her father had cried when they brought her out to her family, but her mother and brother didn’t. They didn’t love her like her father, predictable, but they were kinder while she recovered. Maybe someone else would’ve cried, to finally have everyone’s attention.

She never did. It hurt, both emotionally, to know half her family wouldn’t have grieved her, and physically, as multiple bones she hadn’t even known existed then were broken.

But it was okay. Everyone around her cried enough tears to share.

: : :

Later, when Setsuko was 14, she lost her little brother. Her mother cried into her father’s shoulder when the authorities came back with somber expressions, her brother’s body under a dark body bag, and undeniably battered and bloody. Maybe not even a whole body anymore, because who knew what kind of damage he sustained.

Her father placed a hand on her shoulder, and told her to not look at the body bag. But her eyes were only curious, and she itched to peak under it, like she would as a kid under rocks for bugs. But her father’s grip tightened, and she banished the thought.

Setsuko wasn’t exactly close to her brother at 14, but she was still expected to grieve. Her parents expected her to cry, but she didn’t. Her brother wouldn’t have cried if she hadn’t returned, why should she?

Her mother sobbed for days after his death, but she hadn’t shed a tear for Setsuko. She was expected to grieve but she felt nothing for him. She justified her quietness to her mother logically. Without her brother, there was more room in the house. There was more food for each of them, and it was so quiet.

Her mother had scolded her and stormed out after Setsuko explained her thought process, and she had to refrain from rolling her eyes. Her mother was always so dramatic.

Her father came to talk to her as well, and simply said not to mention her brother’s death to her mother, and if her mother ever brought it up, agree with her.

Setsuko pointed out that he wasn’t sad, and he had gently corrected her. He was sad, yes, but he wasn’t a crier.

His words echoed in her mind for years.

: : :

Perhaps the reason Setsuko didn’t cry when her soulmate timer reaching zero was because she always knew they’d die early.

Supposedly the little timers that counted down on everyone’s right wrist was the time that their soulmate would die. Hers was only up to 16 years when she was born, and for the entirety of her childhood, she knew she’d never get much time with them, whoever they were.

Her father held her as the little clock on her wrist ticked down to 0. Her father’s wrist still had plenty of time on it, but he still held her like he knew the pain that should’ve come.

“My brother lost his soulmate early too.” He had said, after the timer was done. “He was destroyed, and it’s normal to feel that way. Don’t be afraid to cry.”

“I’m not going to cry.” She said. “Why would I?”

She was 16 and she was tired of soulmates. The people in her new school loved showing off their timers, claiming how much time they had. People had gone silent when they noticed how little time was left on her wrist, and she hated it.

She did not cry when her soulmate died. She didn’t even know them.

: : :

Katasha was one of the few people she could tolerate in her school. The girl was sarcastic and a little mean, but Setsuko could see past her cruelty and saw herself, in a way. Katasha was cold and judgmental, but it was a protection system. Her eyes were odd, like Setsuko’s, and that made them both stand out.

Katasha hadn’t been surprised when Setsuko declared she rarely cried. But Celeste was.

Celeste was emotional in a way that both Katasha and Setsuko weren’t. She was so normal in comparison, she blended in well with the student population, even if she wasn’t born in the country.

Setsuko found out her surprise when her parents finally disowned her. Apparently they, or more likely her mother, couldn’t handle her rebellion and her disobedience in school.

Celeste bounded up to her like a puppy when she got the text. The younger girl had immediately noticed something was wrong. “What’s up?”

“My parents disowned me. Now that I’m legally an adult in America I’m supposed to support myself.” Setsuko said casually.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Celeste’s expression melted into one of sympathy, and Setsuko was surprised to notice that it actually hurt a little.

“Don’t worry about it.” Setsuko clicked off her phone. “I’ve already got a plan in place.”

“But,” The brown haired girl’s frown only deepened. “You’re going to college, right?”

She scoffed. “Of course not.” Her grades were abysmal and she knew she was barely graduating, much less going to higher education. “Not everyone can be a grade A student like you, Celeste.”

“But you’re so smart!”

“I am, but not how they want me to be.”

Setsuko had seen how Celeste cried when her presentation got a bad grade, and she had seen how Katasha shed a few tears when her parents criticized her, but Setsuko didn’t cry,

Why would she?

**Author's Note:**

> I know you're thinking I'm heartless  
> I know you're thinking I'm cold  
> I'm just protecting my innocence  
> I'm just protecting my soul
> 
> \- Too Good at Goodbyes by Sam Smith


End file.
